DC Comics: The Misadventures of Darren Koslowski
by The Social Monstrosity
Summary: His name is Darren J. Koslowski. Before, he was just some average, everyday office worker, or at least that's what he wants you to believe. However, an act of good will has sent his life into disarray, and in the sights of nearly every hero and villain across the DC Pantheon. Follow as he encounters love, loss, and spreadsheets galore! [CANCELED: CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN]
1. The Life of an Office Drone

**DC Comics: The Misadventures of Darren Kozlowski**

 **Part One: The Life of…**

 **Chapter One: The Life of an Office Drone**

It wasn't hard to view my life as boring and uninteresting, nor would I take offense if you'd outright say so. For it was, from an audience's perspective, just that. Repetitive, tedious, monotonous, pretty much every possible synonym associated with bland would be apropos detailing what my job ensued.

It was easy to procure my job, for only a select few would outright search for a position as this. On paper, the title "Data Entry Operator" often tricked those looking for work. Upon closer inspection, one could pull back the welcoming vile of cozy font use and immaculate grammar to see what sort of dull hell awaited you if you were to sign on the dotted line. Your world would be seized by a warlord dressed in a suit, hell bent on setting what little social life you had left ablaze, with spreadsheets and forms acting as the kindling, and overtime the lit match.

But not for me. From my perspective, this was all I ever needed. A quiet job with steady income, antisocial coworkers with no desire for meaningless conversation, and free coffee every morning from the office lounge. For me, this was all I ever needed.

My name is Darren J. Kozlowski, and for most of my life, I've dreamt of finding a job like this, where my existence was ignored for the majority of the day and pay was optimal.

I am content.

I am happy.

"Hey their DJ!"

 _Fuck_ , I thought.

"Hello Jase. How can I help you?" I asked my optimistic coworker, his blubbery belly swishing and swooshing all around as he walked.

 _More like waddle_ , after that thought, I immediately silence any other negative comments swimming around in my head.

Jase was a kind soul, pure in every sense of the word. Diligent worker, faithful husband, and an all-around jolly guy. Apparently, the continuously strenuous work as the department's head accountant wasn't enough to break the offices' most kind-hearted employee. He didn't deserve my unjustly wrath. It wasn't his fault I despised social interaction. Therefore, I usually ignored my one rule when it came to communicating with other people. That is to never engage in meaningless conversation, on wasted breath. For if there was one thing Jase was an expert at, besides balancing the offices' finances, it was meaningless conversation.

"Oh nothin'," he said through his thick, brown moustache, "Just wonderin' what you were up to."

 _Figures_ , I thought.

Hey, I never said I liked talking to the man, I just said I'd ignore my anti-social tendencies for him. Didn't mean I don't still have them.

"I see," I replied, my sullen eyes never leaving my screen.

 _Multitask Darren. You don't need to look at the man. Just appear really busy and he'll take the hint._

"Yeah, I finished up not too long ago, and I thought I'd stop by!" _Of course you did_ , "Sitting here alone must suck," _Not to me_ , "Glad my office isn't back here, I might've gone crazy. You're basically all alone over here!" _That's the point!_

I sigh, finally giving up on whatever work was in front of me. I then turn around to face my chubby 'friend'. Now I can see his finely cut, brown hair, which showed signs of receding. Not uncommon for a man in his mid-thirties, yet I felt a bit bad for the guy. Although, I suppose his thick patch of lip-hair was his way of compensating. Knowing him though, he probably didn't care. Other than that, besides his hefty weight, the only other distinguishing quality was his cheery attitude. Like everyone in the office, including me, he wore a short, off-white button up shirt that perfectly contorted around is bulbous stomach. Unlike me, he wore beige slacks and black work loafers. I, on the other hand, wore black khakis and my favorite pair Chuck-Taylors.

"So DJ," _Stop calling me that heathen_ , "I was thinking of going out to drink after work," _Uh oh_ , "Wanna come with?" _Hell no_!

"Uh, depends," I slowly start to say, unsure of what to do, "Anyone... else coming?"

"Yeah! I invited Miguel," _Who_? "Steve's assistant," _Ah, I remember him, he's quiet therefore tolerable_ , "Hank's also coming," _Shit_ , "I figured the hardest workers here deserved a drink! So what do you say!?"

 _Fuck_ , I thought in utter anguish, _I really, really, REALLY don't want to. Especially if that asshole's coming._

Thing was, Jase was a really good guy. Better than most. He had an aura around him that somehow brought out the best in people. He was even able to drag assholes like Darren Kozlowski out of their shells.

 _I am REALLY gonna regret this_.

"... sure."

…

I rarely drank. Me and alcohol just didn't get along. Smoking, whether it be tobacco or weed, was also out. My vice, which I drowned my miseries in, will and always be pills. Xanax and Valium for my crippling anxiety, Ambien for my endless insomnia, and of course all your trusty Triptans for those pesky migraines, to name a few. I was already on thin ice when it come to my weekly medication pallet, adding a sip or two of the Devil's Piss was NOT gonna fly.

"Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug!" cheered my fiery coworkers.

 _I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die._

And just like that, my mug hit the table, all of its earlier contents now swimming around in my stomach.

"Nicely done my friend!" Jase called out, clapping my back affectionately.

"I agree," said Miguel, having already finished his.

"Hell yeah! That was bitchin'!" _Fuck you, Hank._

There I was, sitting on a stool, at a table, with my coworkers, in a bar not a block away from our office building, wondering how the fuck I got talked into this.

 _I don't even drink!_ I thought, sipping a glass of water I had ordered along with my now finished drink.

"I got to say, I'm surprised you got Kozlowski to come with us, Jase," commented Hank as he ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair.

 _Nice comb-over over jackass, at least Jase is taking it like a man._

"Right!?" replied my chubby companion, "I'm glad you came DJ. Working all those late hours by yourself must suck the life out of you, huh?"

"Eh," I decided I might as well be real with them, let them know what kind of guy I really was, "Not really. Honestly, I kind of like the solitude."

"Really!?" spoke the crew.

 _Jeez, you'd think I had just told them all I was Superman or something_.

"How come?" asked Miguel, sipping every now and then from his mug.

"Yeah, that's kind'ah odd my friend." _Glad to hear that from you of all people, Hank._

"Well, since my mind, and therefore my sense of reason, is numb with booze, I guess I can let you guys in on a few things," as I take a sip of my cool refreshing water, the guys sat there waiting patiently for me to continue, "I got about half a dozen mental issues rattling around in my brain, on top of being an anti-social shut-in. I truthfully hate having to deal with people. Always have, always will. That's why I took this job. I figured I wouldn't have to talk to anyone. Me and people just… don't get along."

"Wow," spoke Jase, having taken a sec to digest my words, "Darren I'm… so sorry man."

"Hm," I chuckled to myself, staring at my empty glass, "It's fine. I've lived with this shit my whole life. I've learned to deal with it. To tell you the truth Jase, I'm having a good time. I…"

I look back at the man, seeing his worried gaze barring into my soul. Hell, even Miguel and Hank gave their own sympathetic looks my way.

 _Sigh… fuck you Hank._

"Thanks… is what I'm trying to say," I finally manage to spit out.

After that, we 'clinked' glasses, forgot our troubles and Miguel (our most sober compadre) drove us home.

All in all, the experience was… tolerable.

…

There wasn't much to say about the trip to my abode. Jase laughed like a maniac, Miguel waved goodbye, and Hank cried like a bitch.

I staggered up the stairs towards my apartment's door, thanking every god I knew that tomorrow was my day off. Going into work with a beer and pill induced headache would be agony.

The apartment building I lived in was mostly vacant. The manager rarely fixed anything and was kind of a creep, so he normally drove customers away. Thankfully for him, he managed to snag a weirdo like me. With almost no one around, besides an odd visitor here and there, I was alone to do as I pleased. Plus, there was an unspoken agreement between me and the super: If I pay the rent every month and keep away from him and his hobbies (I don't know why he stays quiet about it, those porcelain dolls he makes are astounding), then he lets me do whatever I want with no supervision. Seriously, I could be a crazed homicidal maniac for crying out loud and he'd have no clue! Still, it was this fact that kept me here.

Three years ago, this uninhabitable shit-hole of an apartment had been transformed (by me of course) into a cozy little pile of crap.

Before I had fully committed to the refurbishing, in one of our rare conversations, I asked the super if he was willing to let me pay for the room next to mine and turn them both into one. Bold question, I know, but I had hunch he'd say yes, and he did! Since the rooms themselves were considered average sized, once I knocked down the rotten piece of wall separating the equally as disgusting neighboring apartment, they combined to form a nicely sized living space. Plenty of room, two bathrooms, and since I didn't need two kitchens, I removed the sink and what not, and replaced them with more cabinets of all sizes, transforming it into a sort storage space.

Finally reaching my door, I pulled out the key, turned the lock and the nob along with it, and enter my safe haven. Stepping inside, I let the door close by itself, leaving all my troubles and worries behind it.

 _It's good to be home…_

I closed my eyes, willing my mind to wander around my residence, feeling every inch of payed space surrounding me. And just like that, nearly every single thing in the room that wasn't nailed down to the floor rose off the ground and around my person, creating a mini vortex that swirled around me. Faster, faster, and faster still!

"Urrraahhhhhhh! IT FEELS GOOD TO BE FUCKING HOME!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Ever felt like you've had to hide the real you from everyone else, less they freak the fuck out? Whelp, I do, and as you can see, my reasoning is pretty solid.

There are a few different names one could use when describing my condition, but I personality have always liked the term Esper. Psychic always seemed to eluded to seeing the future, which was definitely not something I can do, at least not yet (I hope). Telekinetic was too vague, since telekinesis was just one of the few things I can do. In the end, I figured Esper was a more catch-all term. Plus it just sounds pleasant to the ear, ya know?

 _ESPER…_

So yeah, I have psychic powers. Ever since I was born, I've been able to lift things without physical exertion. No matter how heavy or light, big or small, I can usually move it around, with almost surgical precision. Along with that, I can also "feel" around with my mind. The best I ever came to describing it was like using sonar, except on a deeper level. I never pushed it to its max so I don't really know my limitations, which also goes for the telekinesis.

Then there was the mind reading. Knowing one's thoughts without them knowing themselves, was a god like ability. It was also the reason I grew to be weary of people in general. Reading one's true thoughts, what they kept hidden from everyone else, it was not a pretty thing. You'd be surprised what people actually think of you, or anyone for that matter.

However, that's pretty much as far as my powers go. I may be able to do other stuff, but I stopped experimenting with them after a certain point, seeing as how having these powers came with some drawbacks.

Thing is, when it comes to the mind reading, I can't turn it off. Can you understand that? Always having someone else's thought, opinions, and emotions flying around your noggin'?

Oh, you thought that was me wanting Hank to shut the fuck up? NOPE! That was Miguel! That guy HATES Hank, with a burning passion. I just… felt his emotions.

… okay, maybe I hated Hank a little, but that's only because I can't stand people who use outdated terms and phrases, which was Hank to a T.

So imagine that; never being able to turn that shit off for most of your life! It sucks, I'll tell you that for free.

The best I've ever been able to do is condense it. Make it so only those standing three feet around me get their mind's violated. I cannot tell you how much relief it gave me when I figured that out.

Now, let's get to the headaches. Oh, you thought that was the end of my suffering!? Fuck no!

You see, as powerful as my telekinetics are, they constantly beg to be used. So, when I refuse to do so, seeing as how moving shit continuously with my mind throughout my day would hinder me (I hope you can guess why), my mind basically yells "Fuck You" at the top of it metaphorical lungs in the form of a pain splitting migraine.

This is why I pop pills every day. This is why I hate socializing. This is why I work at a job that minimizes human contact. This is why I can't just go out regularly with a bunch of work buddies for drinks. This is why, the only time I can truly be free is in the safe confines of my own home. This is why I am alone.

This is why I hate… anything.

So yeah, me and my powers aren't on the best of terms.

I will say this though. There's a reason I dislike Jase's company the least. It's because I know what goes on in that fat noggin of his. All the positive reinforcement and kindness. It just seeps from that man's dome like a fire hydrant.

He's a good guy. I wish him the best of luck.

I decide to forgo my usual nightly rituals, instead opting to head straight to the bedroom. At this point, I'd guess I should go into detail what I actually kept in my apartment, all my interests and what not, but it's way too late for that.

So instead I'll leave you with this, while I crash on my creaking mattress.

I don't know what my future holds. Maybe I'll live the rest of my life hiding this, dying before ever showing a soul that doesn't already know, the amount of which I can count with my fingers.

Or maybe… something else with happen.

Who knows. I certainly don't.

I do know I ain't gonna be a hero. We got plenty of those already, flying around, bein' assholes.

 **End**

… **...**

 **End Notes:**

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 **A special thanks goes out to my main man** **ValkyrieKnight96** **, and his awesome beta reading skills!**

 **See you next time!**


	2. The Life of a Psychic Shut-In

**DC Comics: The Misadventures Of Darren Kozlowski**

 **Part One: The Life of…**

 **Recap:**

His name is Darren, he's an office drone, he hates human interaction, he has a friendly work acquaintance named Jase, he's a pill popper, and he has psychic powers. This is his story.

 **Chapter Two: The Life of a Psychic Shut-In**

Dreams aren't really something I have anymore. Not since a particularly odd night, where a certain Cali boy levitated his dad's Lego Model Death Star off the ground with his mind. Ever since then, for some mysterious reason, sleep has been a completely empty experience. While some consider this to be somewhat sad or depressing, I happen to find it refreshing.

In an endless void of mindless conversations, foul moods, and meaningless existences, sleep is the only activity that requires little effort and leaves my mind dull and inactive. No headaches, no worries, no anything. This, essentially, to me is pure and unbridled bliss.

On the flip side, waking up is basically akin to torture. Imagine one second having no physical and/or mental disablement, only for the next to have the world's most agonizing migraine. Let me tell you, NOT FUN.

"Grrrrah, not now. It's my day off." I whine to no one but myself, and maybe God.

Alas, it seemed sleep was fleeting, so I figured I might as well start my day. As much of a pain in the ass as it was.

First things first, I had to gently rip my face from my pillow, an act which felt like an honest to goodness pain in my heart. As I do, I take notice of the fact that in my late night stupor, I had decided to sleep in my work clothes, believing that changing would have been too much a challenge. Shrugging, I then willed the upper half of my body upwards, stretching my arms and back as I did, relishing each and every pop that came along.

"Ah, that's the stuff," I sighed in content, feeling the stiffness in my joints ease away. Finally pulling myself into a sitting position, I groggily rub my face as if to wipe away the exhaustion.

Damn it all was getting up an ordeal in-and-of itself.

Standing up, I lazily pull myself up and off the comfy confines of my mattress, careful not to slip or trip on any loose articles of clothing that littered the ground.

 _Shit, looks like laundry is a bit overdue._

With a flick of a wrist, and a little psychic power, every single article of clothing, from shirts to undies, flew up and across the room, sending themselves into the nearby hamper. Hey, they may be the cause of all my pain and suffering, but damn do they come in handy sometimes.

As I stroll into the bathroom, in order to go about my morning rituals, I promptly felt as if something was missing. Something crucial.

 _Duh, dumbass! Can't have an official Darren J. Kozlowski morning without some tunes._

I expanded my mind, "feeling" around the apartment until I found one of my old, salvaged computers, this one being hooked up to a bunch of speakers I had spread all around my residence.

One of the pros of not having any neighbors: no noise complaints.

After a few moments of booting it up and hitting shuffle, my habitat was filled with a familiar piece I had heard a million times before.

"~I had visions, I was in them, I was looking into the mirror~," I sang as I undressed, "~To see a little bit clearer, the rottenness and evil in me!~"

As the lyrics continued, I stepped into the tub and proceed to wash and scrub my sweat and filth covered body, thoroughly enjoying the scalding hot water pouring all over me.

"~I'm not sick but I'm not well! And I'm so hot! Cause I'm in hell!~"

Finishing up, I stepped out of the bath and onto the cold, tiled floor, rubbing a towel along every inch of my person. After doing so, I used my powers to levitate the now damp piece of cloth and send it over with the rest of the dirty laundry.

Following the beat, I began multitasking the rest of my routine. While using my hands to apply paste onto my toothbrush, I also take the time to make my bed and pull out a fresh pair of clothes to wear, laying them on the now newly de-wrinkled sheets. After brushing and rinsing out my mouth, I open up the cabinet and snag my pill case (the ones with the daily amounts in each compartment that represent every day of the week), pop open the lid with _Su_ on the front and chuck the concoction down my throat.

 _Tells you how used to it I am when I don't even need something to wash them down with._

"~I want to publish zines And rage against machines I want to pierce my tongue It doesn't hurt, it feels fine The trivial sublime I'd like to turn off time And kill my mind, you kill my mind,~"

Turning off the bathroom light, I stroll over to my mattress, overlooking the outfit I had chosen for today's "activities", or lack thereof. In front of me lay's a plain white t-shirt, my softest pair of boxer-briefs, and some blue sweats. No matter how you looked at it, these were the garments worn by those who planned on wasting the entire day lazing around, doing nothing except watch TV, munch on fast food, and play the occasional video game. Those such as me.

"I'm not sick but I'm not well. And It's a sin, to so swell…"

By the time the song ends, I'm clothed and sitting on the couch I had found months ago, abandoned on the road near my apartment. Sure it had a tear or two, and the acid green color was eye singeing, but all in all it was still in pretty good condition. Whatever the case, it was my win.

Realizing that nothing could top that masterpiece of an intro, I mentally shut down the laptop along with its speakers, before the next song had a chance to play.

And with that, I make myself comfortable, stretching along the length of the couch. Seeing the remote resting on my recliners armrest, I "flick" it over to me, snatching it out of thin air, and switching on my discounted flat-screen.

 _Ahh, this is the life,_ I thought as I flipped through various channels, _Nothing to do, but lay here and let the meds do their magic. Now, let's watch some fucking CARTOONS!_

However, just like with the morning music, I felt as if something was missing, but what?

" _Grrrrrrrh_ ,"

 _Oh. Shit, that's right. I need food!_

Begrudgingly, I sat up and headed for my little kitchen area. While the rest of my accommodations were moderately sized (thanks to my clever ingenuity) the one thing I can say that suffered was where I prepared my meals. I neither expanded on it nor really refurbished it like I did with everything else, except the odd replacement here and there. Part of that could be contributed to the fact that I rarely cooked. Not like I couldn't. Hell, I could even say I was pretty damn adequate. However, living alone made you wonder why. I never have anyone over, and probably never will. Plus, why eat something adequate you made when there were so many restaurants and fast food establishments out there, who deliver right to your door?

Although, I still kept a few things in the fridge, just for occasions like this, where I decided to barricade myself inside my house and not leave till the following day.

At least, I thought I did.

"The fuck?" I gasp, seeing neither food nor drink hiding inside my fridge, "No. No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-NO! God-DAMNIT!"

Slamming the refrigerator door in frustration, I then took a moment to calm myself and assess this minor complication.

 _Okay, here are my options. Seeing as how it's a Sunday, and no fast-food place does take out today, I'll either have to starve until tomorrow, and even then it'll have to wait till lunch since I don't have any breakfast foods, OR I can simply walk to the nearest place that sells food and quickly run back. Yeah, yeah. I'll… just do that. Besides, it'll take like, what, twenty minutes? Thirty, tops? What's the worst that can happen?_

Steeling my resolve, I quickly walk over to my bedroom, grabbed my keys and my wallet from the pockets of yesterday's pants, slipped on a pair of sneakers, a plain grey cap and a blue hoodie, and headed for the front door.

 _This is gonna suck._

…

Here's the thing, I **hate** superheroes. Okay, maybe not HATE, but still, I've had a deep-seated dislike of them for as long as I can remember, along with their equally as annoying nemeses. Don't ask why. Too many foul memories. With that said, there were really only a few locations in Cali that supers, along with their enemies, actually populated.

San Francisco was home to a few of those Teen Titans the whole country was obsessed with, for some dumb reason. My money was on that alien chick with the orange skin. Don't know why, I always thought that goth girl was way cuter.

Los Angeles also has a few supe's running around, but that's besides the point. That hellhole always had problems, and I ain't necessarily talking about the gangs neither.

I've even heard of some weirdo stalking San Diego who talks to animals.

In any case, when the time came for me to fly the coop and search for a new abode, I kept my eye out for any superhuman hotspots, making sure to stay as far away from them as I could. Turns out, the best I could do was a little city along the coast called _Santa Cruz_. Not much farther from my hometown, but still, it was far enough to where I couldn't make a casual visit to the folks without having to stop at a gas station along the way.

The city itself was pretty alright. Crime was still present, but it could never compare to some of the other areas surrounding it. The beaches were okay, as well as the local amusement park, or at least that was the general consensus. Whenever someone walked too close and had recent memories pertaining to those places, their opinions were usually positive. I've never been myself. Never had the need to. Too many people, too many thoughts crammed together.

Speaking of thoughts, as I walked along the sidewalk, I couldn't help but pass the various citizens who happened to be wandering down the same path. Their voices, their **true** voices, wormed their way into my brain.

" _I can't believe Stacy broke up with me! Next time I see that bitch I'll break her fucking-"_

" _Who does that freak think he is!? He should know to just crawl back into his filthy-"_

" _Mexicans! All these God-Forsaken Mexicans should just go back where they-"_

" _Boobs! Wonderful, glorious boobs! Bouncing up and down, to and fro-"_

 _OH MY GOD! SHUT THE FUCK UP!_

Hate, hate, hate. That's all it ever is. Well, maybe not always. That one guy sure loves breasts, but that's usually it. This mind reading biz wouldn't even be that bad if the entire population didn't always think about stupid shit to fuss about. OKAY! Fine, you're right, not everyone thinks stupid shit. There _are_ people out there who know better, who know not to worry and/or explode with rage over such trivial nonsense. People who just like to enjoy life. People like Jase. However, as the days went by, I can't help but feel like those people are dwindling, and instead are being replaced with more of the same. Bitter, horrid, rude, obnoxious, filth minded assholes who don't give a shit about anyone else but themselves.

But hey, maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm just the asshole. Maybe-

"Excuse me?"

"Wha?" _Huh?_

Oh. Apparently, I'm causing a public disturbance. Makes sense, seeing as how I was currently standing in front of some random building, mumbling incoherent gibberish, all while rubbing my hands together oddly.

"Sir? Are you okay?" the lady standing beside me asked, worry evident on her face.

"Uh… yeah… I mean YEAH! Totally," I manage to say, taking my immediate exit and leaving the nice woman where she stood, "Thanks for the concern though!?"

 _Fuck, guess my medication hasn't kicked in yet,_ I thought as I kept walking, _Ugh, stupid! Why did I even leave right after taking it!?_

"GRRRRRH!"

 _Oh yeah. Speaking of which, where's- AH HA!_

There it was, your friendly local convenience store, complete with inflated gas prices, tacky decor, and (best of all) junk food that'll burn right through your small intestine.

 _Perfect._

Sprinting down the sidewalk, I squeeze past all the parked cars waiting to be filled up with liquid dinosaurs ( _wait, that doesn't sound right_ ), and into the entrance of the building. Opening the door, I hear the jingle go off, alerting the employee standing in front of the register. He barely acknowledges my existence before gazing back down at his… nude mag?

 _Come on man, you're on the job. Be professional. What would your momma think of you if she saw you right now? Bah! Whatever, all I need are a few things to tie me over until tomorrow, then I can skedaddle on out of here. Easy peasy._

And it was. With virtually no one in the establishment besides me and the disappointment of a son sitting over there (seriously Edd, with all the shit she puts up with, I figured you'd be at least be a little appreciative), it was a breeze finding all my favorite chips, sodas, and chocolate bars littering the shelves.

Feeling satisfied with my bounty, I shuffle down towards _Eddy the Letdown_ , dumped everything I held in my grasp, and waited as the less than enthusiastic attendee scanned each and every item. Sloooooooooowly.

 _Jesus, Edward, pick up the pace. I wanna be here just as much as you do buddy._

Just as _Mr. Unappreciative_ here got about halfway through, a jingle was heard, gaining my attention.

I look over at who decided to step in and… I kind of wish I didn't.

It barely took one second for my powers to do their job, sending info into my brain, showing me every single thought and emotion that ran through this individual's mind. And boy, was it not pretty.

This young man, just barely out of his teens, was highly unstable. Angry, in debt, and desperate, there was only one possible reason this guy was strolling in here. Although to the naked eye he might've come across as just some fresh face degenerate looking for a pack of smokes, I was able to see into his head, along with the six shooter hiding in his jersey's right pocket. And honestly, he was kind of in the right. No customers besides me (except that'll change soon seeing as how Jerk Off here was finishing up my purchase), busted cameras with fuzzy screens and no audio, and a coward standing behind the desk who had no problem handing over every single bill that laid inside that overstuffed metal box.

"That'll be thirty seven nineteen, sir." Spoke Edd, seemingly done with the transaction.

 _Shit._

"Uh. Oh. Here," I say as I pay the man.

I see the young robber, who I find out is named Hector, walking around in the back, waiting for me to leave.

 _What should I do? What should I do, what should I do, what should I fucking DO!?_

 _Here's what you do, Darren. You're going to ask for a bag (since carrying all this back to the apartment would be a hassle to deal with otherwise), you're gonna put all the snacks you just now paid for in that bag, and then you're going to walk the fuck out of here._

 _But shouldn't I at least warn the guy? Give him a heads up?_

 _No. There are so many things that can go wrong here. Edd here may freak out, may ask questions how we know, may even freak Hector out. And we know that if Hector freaks out, he'll start… wait._

 _Yeah, wait a sec. Is Hector gonna?_

 _Yeah, he is._

 _He's… he'll..._

 _He's gonna shoot Edd. No matter what the lazy fuck does, whether he complies or not, Hector here isn't gonna leave any live witnesses, at least if he can help it. He is going to kill Edd. No. Matter. What._

… _well!?_

 _Well what?_

 _What should I do then, asshole!?_

 _How the hell should I know!? I'm you, dumbass!_

"Sir!" came a voice from in front of me, startling me from my argument with myself, "Can you please exit the line, there's a customer behind you."

I turn around and, sure enough, there's Hector. His ratty jersey smelled of piss and weed, although we both knew that wasn't the only thing he's using. I bet if I took a big ole whiff of that jacket, I could still catch a contact high off of all that spilled cocaine.

 _Jesus, what is this, the 80's?_

"Y… yes," I mutter, slightly shaking as I turned to look back at Edd, "But first, I wanted to see if… if I could… g-g-g-get a b… bag?"

Sighing, he spun around to grab the item in question, giving me plenty of time to come to terms with leaving Edd here to his death. Hey, I ain't no hero. I specifically chose this life of solitude and loneliness just so I wouldn't have to deal with situations like this.

Yet here I am, stuck in a room with a will-be killer and his first victim, and if this all went Hector's way, probably not his last.

…

…

…

 _Shit._

"Here you go sir, now please leave the store, if you'd be so kind." Demanded Edd, pointing at the exit door.

I take the bag, and as I unhurriedly stuffed it with all my acquired goods, I formed a half assed plan that might've been so ridiculous, it was likely to fail spectacularly. But hey, I had to try, right?

"Thanks man," I thanked the cashier, turning towards the door before stopping in my tracks, "Wait. Uh oh."

Both men gaze back at me, anger and frustration evident in their eyes, although Hector stays quiet, worried he'll lose his calm if he doesn't.

"Sorry-," I start to say as I stare at his name tag, _even though I already know it by heart,_ "Edward, it looks like I have a little problem here."

"Oh yeah, and what's that?" he demanded, ready to kick my ass out.

"Well, you see, it appears as if I have purchased one to many drinks," _Oh god, this is gonna go so poorly._

" _Sigh_. Look buddy, I can't do any returns right now. I need my supervisor for that and he's taking a lunch right now," _That's a lie. You can, you're just saying that to discourage me,_ "If you'd like to wait for an hour, be my guest, but please let me help the next customer in line."

"No, that's alright." I say, initiating the next phase of my shitty plan as I look towards Hector, "Um, would you like to have it sir?"

I reach for the aforementioned soft drink, using my powers to violently shake its contents all around.

"Uh," was as far as Hector got before I shoved my purchase into his chest.

 _BOOSH_!

"AAAHHH!" screamed the ratty young man, as a fountain of fizzy sugar water shot right into his face.

While Hector here was busy screeching his heart out ( _having carbonated sugar water sprayed directly into your eyes probably didn't feel all too well_ ), both his arms flailed out, along with the hand that currently held the revolver.

"Oh my god!" I shout out, fake fear running across my face, "He's got a gun! Hurry, get got before he-"

Apparently, my wailing was uncalled for, since the moment the six shooter came within Edd's sight, he had made a mad dash to the exit, leaving me to deal with the would-be robber.

 _I'll admit, it wounds me that he didn't even hesitate._

I turn back to poor Hector, practically blind by my cheap shot. For a split second, I gaze upon the camera that was set up on the corner of the ceiling, only to mentally pull the power cord, effectively disabling it.

"Ah! Urhahahah! What the fuck asshole! I'll fucking kill you!" Bawled the young man, pointing the gun in my general direction.

"Yeah, well that's the thing, Hector ole pal. You can't," I say as I simultaneously walk over pick up my discarded bag of goodies, "I ripped out the firing hammer, or whatever it's called, while you weren't looking. So… yeah."

Sure enough, after pulling the trigger a few times, the man came to realize my words rang true. Then, in an almost comical manner, the guy tried to feel his way around, desperate to find an exit, yet with no such luck.

Besides watching a real life Tom and Jerry cartoon unfolds in front of me, there was no real need to stay. Like I had said, the sad sap was practically blind. Plus, it seemed as though he had never got a good look at me to begin with, so I was in the clear. Hell, if anyone came to me, police or otherwise, I could literally just say I pulled an Eddy and bailed as soon as I saw the gun. If anyone came to me at all, that is.

So with that, I bid a bumbling Hector a wave goodbye and headed back outside in the direction of my apartment.

 _Man, fuck my life._

 **End**

…

 **End Notes:**

 **Ah? Ah? What do you guys think?**

 **As always, please follow and/or favorite.**

 **And please… send me a review. I love those.**

 **Oh, and just to let you guys know, the song Darren was listening to was**

 _ **Flagpole Sitta**_ **by "Harvey Danger".**

 **A special thanks goes out to my main man ValkyrieKnight96, and his awesome beta reading skills!**

 **See you next time!**


	3. The Life of an Unlucky Bastard

**DC Comics: The Misadventures Of Darren Kozlowski**

 **Part One: The Life of…**

 **Recap:**

His name is Darren. He recently spent most of his day off lazing around, until the realization kicked in that he was out of snacks. In his haste, he had managed to purchase a multitude of treats and drinks at a local convenience store, only to get caught in a sudden robbery. Leaving victorious, and with seemingly no witnesses to speak of, he strolls back home to continue doing nothing. This is his story.

 **Chapter Three: The Life of an Unlucky Bastard**

"Oh my god! Have you heard what happened at that convenience store the other day!? It was insane!"

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap

"I mean wow. A brand new hero, stopping his first crime in our city! Can you believe that!?"

Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap

"What are the odds, am I right!? I wonder if he'll join the Justice League."

TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP

"Wouldn't that be amazing!? OH! What if a few of them come down to visit!?"

 _OHMYGODSHUTTHEFUCKUP!_

While yes, my soul was saved on that fateful day I helped out that piss-ant cashier from getting robbed and/or shot, ever since then I've been on edge. And apparently for good reason, for it appears that my little stunt hadn't gone unnoticed.

For some reason, everyone in this god-forsaken city, including my good ole buddy Jase here, was convinced that whoever foiled that would-be-robber three days ago was a new superhero making his debut. Which was ridiculous really. I mean, seriously!? Just because someone, other than the police, stopped a shithead from robbing some poor fool doesn't automatically mean he was a hero.

Maybe it was just some asshole who was in the wrong place at the right time. Still, at least no one knew of this so called hero's identity, which is the only reason I didn't die from a heart attack the moment I heard about it.

"Yo, DJ. You okay there?"

I turn away from my computer to look at the now worried face of one Jase Donovan, his mind now clouded with concern.

 _Jesus, this guy is way too nice for his own good._

"Yes Jase, I'm fine." I say, only to turn back to my computer.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

"Oh, you sure? It's just, I've noticed those bags under your eyes, and I was wonderin' if you've been sleeping okay?" He asked with care.

 _Okay buddy, you're getting a little personal there._

"Jase, I always have bags under my eyes." I replied coolly, and it was true. I've had them ever since… high school, I think.

"Yeah, but I think they've deepen or something. Or, maybe it's your eyes." Jase says, tapping a finger to his chin trying to figure out why he believed something was off with me.

 _Well, he's not wrong. There is something wrong with me today, but it's got nothing to do with my eyes._

"Look, Jase. I'm flattered at the amount of concern you have for my well-being," I say with genuine gratitude, "But remember what I said a few days ago at the bar."

"Uh," muttered Jase, drudging up recent memories, "Oh! Right. All those… mental issues. I remember. Have they been messing with you?"

"Kinda. Something… stressful came up, and it's been meddling with my flow." I answered, trying to settle his worries, all in vain of course.

"What's been stressing you?"

 _Fuck, shouldn't have said that_

"Nothing you can fix," I told him straight, but, after sensing his hurt feelings, I reined back, "Sorry. It's… personal, that's all."

"Ah, I see," Jase said, returning to his merry ways, "Oh! Before I forget, I'm having lunch later at that cozy little diner down the street, and I was wondering if you wanted to join me."

 _Yeah, I know you do buddy. I also know you've lost five pounds. Guess that new diet must be working._

"Well, I would Jase," I start to say, already feeling sorry for my answer, "But, I got a lot of work to do. Rain check?"

"I'll hold you to it," the man said cheerful, before walking back towards his desk.

After watching him leave, I lean back into my chair and slowly close my eyes, releasing a deep sigh.

 _Fuck._

I wasn't too worried about the whole issue with the robbery, but a part of my brain kept insisting that something sooner or later would happen, all because of my hair-brained actions. Along with that, there was something else that wormed its way into my head. A feeling. I had spent the last three days and nights distracting myself from that specific feeling, but for some reason today was different. Today, I couldn't stop the smile that was creeping across my face.

I felt proud.

I saved someone. From death! How cool was that!?

I couldn't help the warmness swimming around in my heart every time I heard someone praise me for my good deed, even if they didn't know it was me they were praising. Knowing that my choice lifted the spirits of so many made me want to do things. Things I never would have thought to do in the first place.

It made me want to be a hero.

However, I couldn't help how my smile eventually faded away.

 _Is this what hero's feel when they save someone? Does doing something this good drive them to mess with other people's lives, trying to fix every little thing? If so, I can't afford to save another life ever again. This… feeling. It's so…_

 _Intoxicating._

 _And that's what scares me._

"Mr. Kozlowski," came a voice beside me.

 _Damn it. Can't I get a moment's peace?_

I spin myself in order to face Miguel, my second favorite work associate. Standing a good yard and a half away from me kept him out of my current "field of vision", if you know what I mean, so I didn't immediately notice him, nor did I know what he wanted.

I **did** notice something off about him though. Being my boss's assistant must be very tiring, because he had a real pained look in his eyes. Almost like he was about to-

"Darren," Miguel called, snapping me out of my daze, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I replied, yet again turning around to my computer, thinking I could at least try to squeeze in a little work before the day was done, "What do you need, Miguel?"

"Oh, ah… well," he stuttered.

If I was paying any attention to him, I might have caught that uneasy look he was giving me, but alas these forms weren't gonna fill out themselves.

"Darren, the boss... wants to see you."

I freeze in my tracks, unable to process my compadre's message.

 _Huh?_ Was all I could think.

"Francis wants to see me? Why?" I question as I yet again spin away from my work, albeit a bit more violently.

"I uh- I don't know man," he says in a huff, "Just- just head over there, okay."

What? What does that mean!? That piece of shit never calls anyone into his office. Ever! The only reason I tolerate the guy is because, like me, he hates making unnecessary conversation. Although, in his eyes every conversation is unnecessary. Which is fine by me.

So why does he want to see me? I can only ever remember one person who got called into Francis' office and he-

… he- he was….

…

…

…

 _No. No no no. Nonononononononononononono no! It- it can't be! No! It can't! That's outrageous! I've- I haven't done anything wrong!_

 _Or have I?_

 _No, there's no way._

 _But maybe I did. Maybe I made a mistake. A big mistake._

 _How!? My job barely has anything to do with the actual company!_

 _Still, maybe I said something to someone and they got offended._

 _HOW!? I BARELY SPEAK TO ANYONE! HOW COULD I HAVE OFFENDED SOMEONE!?_

 _I DON'T KNOW, ASSHOLE! ALL I KNOW IS THAT I'M FUCKED!_

"Darren," said Miguel, again snapping me out of a daze, "You might want to head over there now."

I nodded in agreement, as I slowly stood up and out of my chair.

Before I moved towards what was to be my inevitable doom, I needed to make sure. To see if I was wrong, and was just psyching myself out. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I'm being a total idiot.

And yet, as I strolled past my vaguely ethnic work associate, I couldn't help but hear the thought that kept running through his mind.

" _...I'm sorry Darren. I'm so, so sorry…"_

… _son of a bitch._

…

What **was** this? This feeling of complete and absolute defeat. Where nothing makes sense, and no one even attempts to help you see how. When something is so unfair, so unjust, it makes you rethink your entire outlook on life.

What sucks the most is that I've felt this way before, back when I was a kid and wanted to wear a cape and cowl.

Yeah, that's right, the one and only hero hating civilian used to be so in love with the fuckers, every wall in his room had been covered in nothing but Batman and Superman posters, and every article of clothing sported some sort of logo referencing a caped crusader, and every toy was just a detailed replica of his favorite super powered being at the time.

And no, my love did not die with age. In fact it only grew as I got older. It even fucked up my love life, with me thinking I had to stay single until the day came when a stunning heroine would one day come and swoop me off my feet and we'd fall in love the moment we would make eye contact.

Was it embarrassing? Yes. Should I have mentioned that last part? Probably not. The point is, I've had to deal with overwhelming disappointment in the past, so you'd think I would have been prepared for this.

I'm not the first person to have lost their job unexpectedly and out of nowhere either. It happens all the time.

That's really all I am, aren't I? A percentage. That's what I keep telling myself anyway, to try to sooth the pain.

….So why isn't it helping?

"Mr. Goslitski," stated Francis Felcher, my soon to be ex-boss, gaining my attention.

The man sitting in front of me wasn't much to look at. Soft jaw, receding brown hair, clean shave, bent nose, pudgy stomach, etc. Wasn't much to him, either. Just another smug douchebag, looking to climb his way up the corporate ladder.

"It's Kozlowski, sir." I say, trying to correct a two year mistake that'll never happen, especially now, "And I don't mean to be rude, I really don't, but you better have a damn good reason for firing my ass."

My harsh tone does its job, tipping Francis off balance. No one could distinguish it, though, do to that permanent sneer he's been carrying since the day he had to put his dog, Berny, down as a child (God how I hate reading memories like that). However, peaking at one's true thoughts did have its advantages. Like finding out this asshole expected a starry eyed, naive child of a man to walk in believing he was getting some sort of promotion or some form of praise, for which he would then achieve a near-arousing level of satisfaction in crushing that little dream into bits and then grinding into dust to snort later. Unfortunately, I was neither naive nor a child, and I sure as hell was not starry eyed! If anything, my eyes were a shade deeper, thanks to my current mood.

He wasn't used to being talked to like this by an employee. Seeing as how he got yelled at by pretty much everyone else, including the executives, HR, and even his wife, he believed being the boss of his own department would enable him to live out his fantasies. Sure he didn't treat us like dirt, but it was damn near close. He did everything he could to gain the upper hand on his so called "lackeys", making sure they knew not to mess with him and his agendas.

He had nothing on me though, and it pissed him off.

"Well, Mr. Kost- er, Darren," he said at the last moment, saving him from my deathly gaze, "I'm sorry to say this, but we've received some information pertaining to a little incident a few years ago that has our board of directors questioning your sanity."

" _Or lack thereof,"_ thought the douche.

 _Yeah, I know what you've got on me, you son of bitch (that's not true his mother was a saint) and it's all a lie!_

"Oh?" I say, frustrated, "And what would that be?"

"Well, I'm not exactly allowed to say what, for decency sake, but I can tell you it involved..." he then stood up over the table, making sure to put a hand close to his mouth as he whisper into my ear.

Did I already know what he was currently telling me? Yes. Did I still yell at him despite this? Fuckin' A I did.

"THAT'S FROM A GODDAMN MOVIE!" I screeched at the man and his absurdness.

"Oh, no no no. You can't lie to me, Mister Cock-lowski" he sneered, pointing a grimy finger at me, "You're not walking away from this one. Out of all the staff workin' under me, you're the only one who refuses to even acknowledge my rule over this department, and it's time I put a stop to it."

 _Oh my god, what a self-absorbed idiot. And it's Kozlowski, for fuck's-_

"So, here's what's gonna happen, Kosobucki-"

" **It's KOZLOWSKI, you inbred pissant!** "

It was quiet for the next few minutes. Or maybe it was just mere moments. Didn't matter. To me, it felt like hours. Then the prick started talking again.

"Mr. Kozlowski," he said with a completely calm yet eerie demeanor, "This is what's going to happen. You are going to either bring me a full psych evaluation, including a complete MRI scan, within the next two weeks, or you can just resign now and be on your way."

I knew that's what he wanted, but I still couldn't wrap my head around it. A fuckin' MRI! That didn't make any sense. Why that!? Not only was it ridiculous that the executives would think that would guarantee my sanity, it was also the one thing I could not afford, for a number of reasons. Money wasn't exactly an issue, although I could do without the shot to my bank account. It was the fact that I'm afraid the wrong person would peek through my head and see all the messed up stuff going on up there. A fully fledged ESPER and a regular human being were bound to have different brain waves or something (shut up, I'm no brain surgeon). It was a risk I couldn't take.

It was a risk I **would not** take.

"Well. Then I guess my time here is done." I said, resigning to the fact that I was now jobless.

I didn't stick around to hear him talk shit me, nor did I care.

This is it. I'm done for. All my work into securing what was probably the best job I could get under my circumstances, and POOF! Gone. I mean sure, I could look for another job. I had plenty of money saved up to keep me afloat in the meantime. But what would be the point. No job came close to this one.

However, it's what I'll have to do. I'm not moving back in with my parents. As much as I know they'd love to have me back, I didn't like leeching off of them. After all the crap I did and the shit they took just for my sake, it was tough for me to ask anything more of them.

So that meant tomorrow would be dedicated to good ole' job hunting.

 _My favorite._

Before I left though, I had just realized something.

 _Hey, doesn't this mean I'm momentarily free?_

Guess I should cash in that rain check.

…

 _45 Minutes Later_

"Wow. I just got to say man. I am SO, so sorry," said Jase right before wolfing down his tuna melt.

"Why? It's not like it's your fault," I told him, taking bites here and there from my delicious BLT.

 _Damn, these are really good. How come I've never heard of this place?_

Our booth was situated right at the very end of the small sandwich shop Jase took me to, away from most of the other customers. The shop itself was called "Jacob's" and had recently opened. Still, with its old-timie feel, you'd think every hipster from here to San Francisco would be dying to try this place out. Maybe the fact that there were no vegan or vegetarian options were what drove those assholes away.

In any case, I was just glad to hang out with my "buddy" here before I had to go home and wallow in anguish. Hell, he even went out of his way to take his lunch early, just for me. What a great guy.

"Yeah. Still, seeing my little buddy here go makes me feel like poo. You good on cash till you find your next job?" he asked, ready to lend me as much as I needed in order to stay afloat.

 _Jesus, man. Calm the hell down._

"Yes Jase, I've got plenty. Apparently my subconscious knew I was never meant to work there way before I did. I've been steadily funneling my leftover cash into my savings for the last two years. I may not be Lex Luther rich, but it'll be plenty until I track down something." said I, finishing up my sandwich.

"Well, I hope you find one soon, my friend," he said, as he too finished his food, "It's been nice working with ya."

He stood up from his seat, ready to leave, but not before lifting his hand up for a shake. I didn't even hesitate as I took it, feeling his warm, greasy hand squeeze mine. Letting go, he left a twenty-dollar bill on the table, tipped his non-existent hat goodbye, and left the store.

I thought about leaving with him, but for some reason I just sat there, not moving an inch. I looked around at all the various people littered around the shop. There were people from all walks of life, from men in fancy looking suits to women and children sharing a meal with each other.

One particular man caught my eye, however. I don't know what it was about him, but I got the sense that he was looking at me, even though he clearly wasn't. So, maybe not directly at me, but still was in a way? If that makes any sense.

The man himself was definitely something to look at. He wore a blue-velvet suit with an almost floral-like pattern that ran along the vest and on top of his jacket's shoulders. His blond hair was immaculate, being swept tightly back and away from his perfect face. His square jaw sported a tasteful amount of scruff that seemed to be trimmed and well maintained. Did I mention he was handsome? I mean, from a heterosexual male's point of view, I could not deny he was number one on a lot of women's free ticket lists.

Still, the man had an aura around him, one so powerful that it eventually made me want look away from him, lest my eyes burn to ashes.

"Sir?"

My gaze falls upon a cute waitress, waiting patiently beside me. Her strawberry blond hair was wrapped in a loose bun and her apron read out the stores name. Her name tag read Jessica.

"Oh, sorry, what can I do for you?" I asked politely, not really picking up any negative thoughts.

"Oh, I was just wondering if you were ready to pay?" Jess asked, holding my check.

"Uh, yeah. Actually, I think I am. Here," I too left her a twenty, telling her to keep the change, leaving her with a healthy tip.

Smiling warmly at me, she walks away, leaving me alone once more.

"Hello, Mr. Kozlowski,"

Or, so I thought.

I twitch, whipping my head around to face the man I had been staring at a moment ago, who now sat in the opposite seat facing me.

"Sorry to have startled you, but we much to talk about, with such little time." he said, his soothing voice creeping its way straight through my ears and into my brain.

"Uh…," I stutter, a horrible yet unknowing feeling hammering my skull, "Who- who are -*gasp*!"

That's it. That's why I feel so weird. For some reason, no matter how hard I tried or for how long, I could not read this man's mind. No memories, no secrets. After a decade, I have encountered a man whose mind was not an open book for me to read.

He was unknowable. A blank.

And it scared me half to death.

"So, Mr. Kozlowski, before we begin, I have to ask…"

"... how did it feel to save that man's life?"

 _Oh fuck._

…

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Fuck yeah! Another chapter done!**

 **Before you leave, I have a few reviews to answer and a couple of things to say.**

 **First the reviews:**

 **Guest Reviewer: Honestly, it's funny you mention Mob Psycho, because this was originally a MP100/DC Crossover. And to answer your question, I'm mostly going to base it off of said property. Get ready to see a light show, cuz it's gonna get crazy later.**

 **Guest: No, thank you. Your praise is one of the main reasons I do this, so keep it up!**

 **Budman: Don't worry, I am gonna go into detail on how his powers work and what he can do a little later. I actually updated the last third of chapter 1 a bit, just to explain it a bit better.**

 **Now for a few things I just want to just say.**

 **Number One: Darren is currently around 22 or 23 in the story.**

 **Number Two: He's been working at the company for two years now.**

 **Number Three: I never came up with a name for the company because I didn't want you guys getting comfortable with Darren's position there.**

 **Number Four: If Darren's life was a show, the intro song would be "Work Shoes" by USS.**

 **Number Five: Darren will end up with someone by the end of this story, but he'll also have a few romances along the way. If you have any suggestions for a few flings or for the straight up end shipping, send me a PM or a review.**

 **Speaking of which, If you guys happen to enjoy this fic, be sure to follow and/or favorite, and be sure to send me a review. I love those the most.**

 **SEE YA!**


	4. CANCELED

**IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT**

 **Okay yes, this current fic is canceled, but not because I ran out of ideas or anything of the like.**

 **I just didn't like where this fic was going, and decided to**

 **START OVER!**

 **This isn't the end of poor ole Darren James Koslowski.**

 **I'm currently rewriting his entire story, with emphases on making sure he gets a proper intro and established character.**

 **An odd thing to say really, but honestly, I had none of that going in the first time.**

 **Anyway, I hope everyone who followed, favored, and overall enjoyed this fic will hop on over with me to the next.**

 **PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR THE REWRITEN FIC NAMED**

 _ **Working in a Superpowered World**_

 _ **[**_ **WARNING: Title is subject to change, so please look for it in my profile "The Social Monstrosity"** _ **]**_

 **I hope to see you all next time!**

 **Bye!**


End file.
